


The Waltz of Treachery

by smolonde



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, flirts with the other to get something AU, karkat is a graphic designer, terezi is a thief, the perks of being a multi-shipper, two strangers meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolonde/pseuds/smolonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat meets a flirty girl on a park bench, and within a few minutes, discovers that he should really be more careful around attractive strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waltz of Treachery

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you probably should be more careful when you see pretty girls.

You’re walking down the street, on the way home from the graphic design studio that you co-run with your best friend. The trees shade your view of the stars, and the city buildings tower overhead. You sit down on a nearby bench, just to breath in some night air and relax a little. Your eyes shut, and for a moment, everything is perfect. The breeze brushes against your skin, and the smell of hot dogs from a street vendor’s cart brushes your nostrils. Then, you feel the warmth of someone sitting down next to you.

You open your eyes, and sitting next to you is an incredibly attractive girl. She has shoulder-length red hair, red shades, and a huge grin. You’re not sure why she’s smiling, though you’re more than a little captivated by it. You blink twice, making sure that she’s not a mirage, but you’re unprepared for her to lean against you.

“Forgive me for being so forward, Mr.…” She takes a sniff at your neck, leaving a slight tingly feeling where her nose touches your skin. You shiver involuntarily, too confused to react.

“Huh. You’re not quite a peppermint candy cane, but you’re also not Jolly Rancher red. Let’s just say that you’re a Swedish Fish. So, Mr. Swedish Fish, I’m cold, and I couldn’t help but notice that your overcoat looks particularly warm. Would you do a lady a favor and let me borrow your coat?” She continues to smile in a vaguely unsettling way. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s a hint of something in that smile. Is it happiness? Is it flirtation? Maybe, but the first word that comes to your mind is _mania_.

“I literally just met you, and you’re asking me if you can borrow my overcoat? What kind of fucking weirdo are you?” This girl is strange as all hell, but you find yourself not wanting to drive her away with your usual creative insults. You usually have no qualms about cursing out the average stranger, but no insults towards her spring to mind.

“I’m a fucking weirdo who’s really cold. So I decided to ask the nearest person for their coat, and maybe if they could possibly walk me home. And it doesn’t hurt that the nearest person may be an incredibly hot guy….”

You feel yourself leaning into her and wrapping your coat around her shoulders. She finds your hand, and then she brushes it with hers.

“Cold hands, Mr. Swedish Fish.”

“Karkat. That’s my name.” You look into her eyes behind her shades. To your shock, they’re filmed over.

“Oh! You’re bli—I mean, you’re… Fuck.” You wish you could shovel your words back into your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m blind. But it just makes all my other senses better. Like,” she leans closer to your face until your noses are inches apart “Taste.”

You feel your heart pound. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. And I like to think that I have a radar for the guys who taste the best.” She touches your cheek gently, bringing her hand to the back of your neck.

“Do you think I’m one of those guys?” you whisper. You don’t know what you’re doing, and this might well be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, but you don’t care. There’s nothing left of your surroundings, just you and this girl and her manic smile.

“I have no doubt of it.”

When she leans in to kiss you, your eyes close in perfect bliss. Her lips are consuming and hungry, and you struggle to keep pace. She reaches her hands into your back pockets, and as she gropes your ass, you whine softly. You feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted from your back into her grasping hands, and you realize, in a hazy thought, that you are very turned on. You push her away, gasping for air.

“Wait. Stop. You’re a total goddamn stranger, I don’t even know your name—“

“Do you have to?” she purrs, brushing hair out of your face.

“Wait. There’s something wrong.” You look at the girl, whose smirk threatens to devour her face whole.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’d better get gone.” She stands up, and you sputter in protest. “It’s not worth it, you’re not even that good a kisser anyways.”

“What the fuck—“you stutter, as she walks away, her hips swinging.

As she disappears into the night, you reach into your back pockets, the warmth of her hands still on your ass. And in that moment, you realize what just happened: your wallet is no longer in your pocket. Neither is your phone, and your subway tokens are gone too. Your mouth drops open, and you scream senseless obscenities at the sky, earning the scandalized gaze of other pedestrians.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and it looks like you’re going to be up all night canceling your credit cards.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a journey to write, not gonna lie.


End file.
